Irreplaceable
by xherrdoktor
Summary: PWP. Feliciano isn't thrilled about the Austrian Anschluss. Actually, he might have interpreted it wrong altogether. ItaGer.


I wrote this back in 2009 and posted it on one of my old LJ accounts. I decided to repost it here along with some of the other things I've written to make everything easier to access. For anyone reading, I hope you enjoy.

And yes. I know how grotesquely historically inaccurate this is, but hey. It's PWP.

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><p>When Ludwig awoke, the room was dark. Had he fallen asleep? He certainly didn't remember doing so. He dug his palm in his and rubbed, then turned his head to look at the clock, but it was difficult to read the hour as the only light came from the light rays of the moon.<p>

He started to sit up then rejected the notion when he felt his head throb. Collapsing back on his pillow, he heard the soft click of his door. He reached for the military distributed pistol, which he kept on his nightstand. But it wasn't there. _Why the hell not?_ Even if he didn't remember falling asleep, surely he would have his gun… "Who's there?" He demanded, trying to see through the darkness.

"Oh! I didn't know you were awake," a familiar voice said. With a twist of a lamp knob, the owner of the voice was revealed. Feliciano. "Ve, I didn't wake you up did I?"

"…No," Ludwig said, trying to make some sense of the situation. Feliciano was supposed to be in Italy. "What are you doing here?"

"Ludwig wasn't feeling good so I came to make him feel better," he said cheerfully.

"…You didn't need to do that." It was sweet of the Italian…but he could have quite easily taken care of himself.

"Of course," Feliciano agreed, his tone darkening to something Ludwig didn't think he was capable of. Anger. Bitterness. Even, had it been someone else and not the little Italian, hate.

Before he could think of a response, the German found the Italian straddling his waist. In a flurry of movements, he had grabbed both of Ludwig's wrists and cuffed them above his head with a pair of handcuffs that Feliciano had looped through around a small plank in the headboard. Instinctively, Ludwig jerked his hands, trying to break free. He still hadn't truly registered that Feliciano was on him. "Feliciano! What the _hell_?"

"_Sta' zitto_," Feliciano commanded. "You brought this upon yourself. Are you listening?"

Ludwig struggled to stay calm. There was no point in getting too upset. This was Feliciano, after all. He wasn't capable of anything too serious.

He saw a glint of metal in the lamplight….something in Feliciano's hand. "A knife?"

Feliciano slowly twirled the knife in his hand, transfixed by it. "…It's all you fault," he murmured. Somehow, expertly, he used the knife to pluck each and every button from the German's shirt. And pulled the fabric away, exposing Ludwig's tone chest.

He ran the blade of the knife down the German's flesh, delighted to see a neat line of blood appear. He ran his index finger through the line then licked his it. As he expected, the German tasted good. He was certain other places would taste better…but he wasn't there yet.

Ludwig inhaled sharply. This…this side of Feliciano was most certainly arousing…but he couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to invoke this side of him. "I don't understand. What exactly have I done?"

"…What have you done?" Feliciano repeated. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned over him, his hand caressing his cheek. He kissed the German's neck softly, earning a soft moan in response. Abruptly, he bit Ludwig's neck. His teeth sank in, blood drawn. Marked. "You're trying to replace me…having _him_ move into your house…" He lapped at the wound on Ludwig's neck. His hand wandered down the German's chest, past his waist, and rested on Ludwig's cock. He gave it a squeeze through the fabric, feeling the muscle immediately tense. "Am I not good enough for you? Why didn't you ask me?"

The German groaned involuntarily. "It's not like that…"

"It's not?" The Italian questioned sardonically. The sound of his hand sharply slapping the German's cheek echoed through the room. "Like I'm going to believe that! If it was as you say, you would have at least told me." His hold on Ludwig's cock tightened, causing him to hiss.

"F-Feliciano…" Ludwig groaned.

The Italian smirked. He liked the sound of the German moaning his name. He unbuttoned the German's pants and pulled them off, discarding them on the floor, followed by his undergarments. He eyed Ludwig's throbbing cock and couldn't resist caressing it. _So this was the pride of the Aryan race…_

He watched the German, pleased with the reaction he was getting—shivers, groans, tensing of his muscles. He tightened his grip and stroked him while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bottle of olive oil he carried in case of a cooking emergency—like, if he got hungry and he was at Arthur's house for some reason. He twisted the cap off and rubbed the oil on the German's entrance.

"What…What are you doing?" Ludwig demanded, shifting his hips away from the Italian's hand.

"I'm not going to let you forget about me," Feliciano said, pushing a finger into the German's tight entrance. He brought his lips down to Ludwig's cock, leaving feather kisses as he moved his finger in and out.

The German's breath hitched, sounds of discomfort and disapproval changing to pleasure and approval. "Feliciano…"

"Mm," Feliciano hummed in response as he took the German in his mouth. He sucked and licked just the he knew Ludwig liked, only this time he allowed his teeth to gently scrape the underside of the German's cock—causing it to jolt in his mouth—to prove his point.

Feliciano added another finger, scissoring and stretching the German in preparation. He marveled at how Ludwig—_strong, masculine Ludwig_—writhed beneath him.

"_Gott_…Feliciano…"

Feliciano drew back before Ludwig came and removed his fingers, wiping them onto the cotton sheets. Positioning himself, he entered the German harshly, causing him to wince and screw his eyes shut.

The Italian's thrusts were rough and sharp. He didn't mean for them to be…Ludwig was always so gentle with him…but he was just so….so_angry_. His nails dug into the German's hips. As Ludwig made feral sounds mixed between pain and pleasure, Feliciano felt tears well up in his eyes.

_No_! He commanded himself. He wouldn't cry…that implied weakness didn't it? And he was trying to prove he wasn't weak…he wasn't useless…Ah, ah, _fuck_! Ludwig tightened around Feliciano as he came, has if egging him on to go faster and harder.

"_Ay madonna_!" Feliciano came hard into his lover. Panting heavily, Feliciano withdrew himself, shaking slightly. He looked up at the blond, who was panting, his eyes hazy. Then his eyes drifted down Ludwig's sculpted chest. And he saw the pain he had inflicted on the German.

Unable to find his voice, he mouthed the word 'sorry' and climbed off the bed, immediately heading for the exit.

"Feliciano…"

The Italian froze.

"_Dummkopf_…I…" Feliciano could see the Ludwig's burning cheeks in his mind's eye. "…I could never replace you."

-fin-


End file.
